The Sinister Legend
by The Psychotic Serial Killer
Summary: The legend of Mr. Boogie has yet to be completely told. There is more to this sinister figure and more to the reason of the murders that have been happening to these innocent families, and Miss Isabelle Jennings is dying to learn everything she can about this mysterious Bughuul.
1. The Films

**A/N: Sinister is a pretty decent horror film, and I just HAD to write a fanfiction of it. It may be weird, but I hope to do Sinister justice. Please enjoy, and tell me how it is :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters that you will recognize from Sinister, nor am I making a profit from this. I'm simply writing this to pass time, and hope to satisfy others with more Sinister until a new movie of it comes out :)**

**Side note: This is going to happen about thirteen years after the Oswalts' murder. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I want to have at least one true survivor of the Oswalt family murder. That one survivor will be Trevor, who is now about 25 I believe. Forgive me if I'm wrong about the age.**

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**Chapter One:**

**The Films**

The listing price of such an elegant home was ridiculously low. Beautifully carved, white pillars lined the front of the house. There were many large windows that let in a tremendous amount of light to illuminate the rooms during the day, but the best part was a study with a large fireplace on the second floor of the home that had already had furniture decorating it: a spacious, mahogony desk with an overhead light, bookshelves full of classic literature and even the modern crime novel Kentucky blood was on the shelves. To be precise, there were six copies total.

Four floors total. Five if one were to include the attic.

Isabelle set the last box down in the middle of the foyer and breathed in the new-house-smell. This was her first home. Finally having a job and ready to start life on her own, she was prepared for the best of luxuries considering her first house was so large and her job was more pay than she could have ever imagined a high school teacher receiving. Then again, this town was fairly rich in wealth and education. It was a high-class kind of town. Then again, maybe she just got good pay because she worked well with the high shcool students when she was a student teacher. It wasn't hard; she herself was in high school less than five years ago.

After unpacking a dozen or so boxes, Isabelle decided to head out and explore the neighborhood.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" someone yelled, just as she was about to step a foot off her property.

Isabelle turned around to see a lean young man with long brown hair run up to her from her left. She raised her right brow in curiousity and confusion. "What do you mean 'what do you think you're doing'? What am I doing that I'm not supposed to be doing?"

"Living in that house," he stated rather harshly.

"Well, okay, I think I will be leaving. Nice to meet you, too." She turned the opposite direction of where he had come running.

"I wasn't finished talking to you," he called to her.

She tried to be patient and not lash out at this man who was acting quite unwelcoming to her. Maybe not so much the words he was saying, but defnitely how he was saying them. "I'm sorry to have moved right next door, Sir, but I'm not giving the house back."

Crossing his arms, he asked, "Were you not told of what happened there?"

"Of course I was told what happened, but the house was cheap, and I don't believe in _ghosts_."

He glared down at her. He was pretty tall...well, maybe he wasn't. Maybe she was simply short.

"You'll regret it."

"I don't feel regret. I simply see the good even when there's bad." Maybe that was pushing it a little too far, but Isabelle wasn't used to people being rude to her. Especially for first impressions and first meetings. Usually, people had no problem being polite and formal. Clearly, this man had one.

He shook his head as if he were talking to a child who couldn't help but be beyond the definition of naive. Then, he walked away, not even giving her his name. She watched him enter a house right next to the one she had just moved in. If he had cared so much about the horrors of that house, why had he moved right next to it? Sighing in irritation, Isabelle was no longer in the mood for an exploration.

Unpacking a few more boxes, she recalled what the realtor had told her about this house:

_"It was a family of four. The husband was working on a new book in a different town until he and his family made a mad dash for this place. He was going to be a retired writer and find a different job to support his family, but the same night they moved in, they were brutally murdered. The father and the mother of the family were found, heads decapitated, limbs cut off from their torsos. But one of the children, a small girl by the name of Ashley had gone missing, while the other boy who was 12 had escaped. The police still cannot figure out what happened exactly. However, the house is cheap because of the tragic event driving away any and all buyers of the place. Having a house not being sold for so long will probably result in the tearing of it down. But it's such a pretty house. Why would anyone want that to happen?"_

She took a few things that belonged to her parents and set them up in the attic. When she entered the vacant area, she noticed a single box directly in the center of the room with the label _Home Videos. _Setting her own box down, she picked the other one up and brought it to her office with the elegant fireplace, and set it on her desk. There were Super 8 films lined in another smaller box along with a projector to project them. Each roll of film had been labeled: _House Painting '12_;_ Family Hanging Out_ '11; _Sleepy Time '98_; _Lawn Work '86_; _BBQ_ '79; _Pool Party '66._

_Strange, _she thought. Each film was taken in thirteen-year increments until _Family Hanging Out _and _House Painting_ where it was merely a single year. Not just that, but what family takes films so far apart? Where are the other videos? Is this the same family filming?

Deciding to satisfy her curiosity, she picked a random film from the middle and inserts it into the projector. Before turning it on, she struggled to find one of her white king-sized sheets to pin up on the wall. When she did find one, she suddenly noticed a rolled up projection screen on the opposite wall of the fireplace. Rolling her eyes at herself, she rolled the screen down and placed the projector on one of the larger packing boxes. Isabelle finally got it to work. She placed the film roll on and turned it on after switching off the lights.

The family was in the kitchen. There was a mother, a father, two sons, and a chihuahua gathering around to make a family meal. Of course, the dog was merely making its rounds about the members to beg for food; only the youngest son had bothered to give him any. The mother looked kind and gentle. She smiled as she poured some pasta into a boiling pot, and the father grabbed fresh vegetables from the fridge and began cutting them up into minuscule pieces. Suddenly, the film cut off and switched scenes. It was now dark inside the house, and instead of the film having been set down to show everyone like before, someone was moving slowly through the halls and rooms and up the stairs in an eerie pace that didn't seem right. Something was off.

A strange symbol was drawn in some kind of dark red paint on the wall just before a door. The person walked into the room and showed the mother and father lying in bed, tied at the hands, feet and their mouths duct-taped. The little dog was placed in the middle and continued to yap at whoever was holding the camera.

Out of nowhere, a knife was in front of the camera and the throats of both parents were being slit.

Isabelle covered her mouth to keep from crying out; not that it would have mattered, no one would have heard her scream.

The slasher was now walking into another bedroom. This time, the younger boy of the family was lying bound on his bed. The knife appeared once more, covered in blood. Before metal touched flesh, Isabelle jumped back, knocked the box and the projector over and fell to her knees, trying her best to get rid of the horrific images that were swelling in her head.

She brushed her curly brown hair back and forced herself to get up. She snatched the projector and all the films and headed out to her backyard. With much energy, Isabelle began burying the films of horrible and sinister happenings.

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**A/N: Reviewing/Messaging me really helps! Even if it has nothing to do with Sinister :D**


	2. First Day of Work

**A/N: I'm a bit shocked to have had any comments on the first chapter! Thanks for the support of this wacked out story. I know of the plot, but some huge special-certain-lovely-things are still unknown, if you know what I man ;) Anyway, I know that you guys are probably reading this story because you want to pass time, but I was kind of hoping to be more interactive with those who like the story enough to follow. So here's the dealio before I begin:**

**1) If you decide you want to be a part of this interacting, simply comment saying you want to join. Don't worry, Sinister lovers! I have a name for us! The Bughuulies! (AKA: a mix of Bughuul and Boogie). Might sound lame, but hey, we have our group now, yes?**

**2) *To be interactive, I would like for those to spit out ideas. _It can be absolutely anything_. You can ask for unicorns to come in or for OUR Isabelle to fall in love with somebody, etc. All of the suggestions will be in consideration, and I will most likely be using all of them in _some form or another_. I will also give credit to the person whose ideas I've used in that chapter in a section called...DUN DUN DUN DUN: The Bughuulies! Which will simply be a section where I quote you guys and respond, send a message specifically to you, and as stated just recently, where I also give credit to any ideas you have kindly given.**

**3) For further information, the only thing I do have in mind for this story is the simple extension of the legend told in the movie. I thought it could have been more in-depth and such, so that is what I'm going to do. _Honestly, all the rest I have yet to come up with. _I know, bad planning.**

**4) You might find this completely weird and entirely different. However, that is the point. Instead of this story being just mine, I saw we band together to make it ours. (Besides, having more interaction and suggestions will really REALLY help me actually write this story because I'm never good at continuing a story). This way, I actually get somewhere with this thing.**

***You can also PM me your suggestions or to simply chat with me :) I'm a very good listener/chaterer...er...**

**Thank you for listening, my little Bughuulies! Now enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters that you will recognize from Sinister, nor am I making a profit from this. I'm simply writing this to entertain others, and hope to satisfy others with more Sinister until a new movie of it comes out!**

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**Chapter Two:**

**First Day of Work**

Isabelle took a shower, dressed in nice pants and a dressy cardigan and headed off to her first day of work. The high school was only seven minutes away when driving, so gas money won't be much of a problem for her. Yet another plus of moving into that house. What that man was talking about, she didn't know.

Except for those films.

But she couldn't go there again; it would tamper with her sanity too much.

She sighed and continued to supress the images. Finally parking in her assigned spot in the staff parking lot, she removed the key from the ignition and waltzed inside like she was on a catwalk. Isabelle couldn't help herself. This was her first day of actual work. Even when she was in school and college, her parents were the wealthy kind to have given her money just like that. Although, the money stopped coming in when she was finished with school. After that, her parents saw to it that she got a job in this place and that she could live a life on her own. Spoiled, she was, and sometimes Isabelle felt terrible for it.

Stepping into her classroom that used to be Mr Aper's, an English teacher who had mentored her during the student teacher days. Now, it was all hers to use as she pleased. In this very room, she would open the minds of young adults to not just the beauty of literature, but to concepts where the students will be able to exercise their brains on.

Students of both juniors and seniors started pouring in five minutes prior to the ringing of the first bell. Though after the bell rang, three students had walked into class. Two with their heads down in a sort of shameful way and the third clearly not giving a crap.

"Hello, class. I'm Ms. Jennings, and I will be your new English teacher for the rest of the year," she simply stated, smiling. At first, she thought this would be a simple task: state her name, give the class a simple essay to read and discuss; however, her nerves were getting the best of her.

A hand was already flapping in the air. "Are you that lady who moved into the haunted house?" a girl asked.

_Not more of this again..._

"Yeah," a boy began, "That house has to be wicked haunted! A whole family was completely chopped up there! Not to mention, the dude of the house was already crazy before he moved here. The dude ran away from some other town. Probably because he knew the killer was on to him, so the killer decided to threaten him, but moving to a completely different state didn't do much for the poor dude. He wrote a book, and I read it! It was pretty badass. He is like a crime writer, which explains how he would be onto the killer and stuff."

The boy right next to him nodded, "I read that. _Kentucky Blood. _I also heard that the dude's son got away. Have you seen him, Billy? I think he still lives here! Right next to the house where his family was slaughtered! But I don't think his sister was slaughtered. I heard she was missing."

Isabelle sighed. _Might as well let them have a fun first day about whatever they want to talk about. _She pulled a stool in front of the class.

"How old was she then? Nine or ten? She would be pretty old now..." Billy, the second one to have spoken about the subject said.

The girl who had first spoken shook her head, "Twenty-two isn't old, Billy."

"Too old for me to date her, Julie!"

She rolled her eyes, "That's all you ever think about: sex."

Isabelle rose a brow, "Alright, let's keep on the subject of the house, please. You all are lucky enough I decided not to assign you the essay I was planning to give." Everyone's eyes grew wide. This notion made her laugh. "So, who is the person who survived the murders that is still living in this town?"

Julie's hand shot up again. She was clearly passionate on this subject. Or maybe she was just passionate about answering as many questions and asking just as many as she possibly could. "May I take out my phone and show you some images and articles? I have them saved onto my notepad app."

Isabelle nodded. Billy rolled his eyes this time, "Nerd. Do you even play games on that? Who uses their own gaming device for education?"

"No downing others in my classroom," Isabelle faked a cough. Billy looked at her as she and the rest of the class chuckled.

Julie pulled up an article and image. In the image was a solemn looking boy with chest-length brown hair and a pale face. His eyes were a dark brown and obviously empty from the horrors he had either heard of or-and she hated to think-witnessed himself. But that wasn't the biggest thing on her mind. Isabelle recognized that little boy as the now-grown-man who had snapped at her for living in that house. Suddenly, the impatientness she had when he was talking to her made her feel utterly guilty now.

"His name is Trever Oswalt, and he was twelve at the time. We believe he still lives in this town, but where the haunted house and his house is really isn't an area any of us live in. Those are where the elderly people live, mostly," Julie explained.

"Did he witness the massacre or was he just informed?"

The girl shrugged, "Beats me. The police here don't talk about it much because they feel they have failed at their job for never having found their sister or the killer."

"I bet the police know more than their willing to tell anyone. Especially that one guy in the town where the hanging happened...that was the house that the dude lived in before he decided to run like a chicken to this place. Look where he put this town. We are getting bad reps now because of it," Billy complained as if he actually cared about the town's reputation.

The boy right beside Billy, Joel, looked at him weirdly, "What are you talking about? Now this cruddy, boring town has something interesting going on!"

Julie chuckled, "As if you even remember what this 'cruddy, boring town' was like thirteen years ago. You can barely remember a lecture after one day."

"Alright," Isabelle interupted, "Since some of us seem to have some knowledge of this happening, I would like each of you to write down everything you know or have heard of about it. You can write an essay, make notes, write bullet points, or make it into a story. Any way you choose is just fine, so long as you write something and turn it into the white basket on my desk before you leave class."

First hour ended up being the only class where this prompt was assigned. The other classes seemed to be interested in other things such as band or sports. Not a single mention of that house. Isabelle was partly grateful for it. It was a small break from the reality that she was living in. It also kept her mind off the guilt she felt. She would have to remember to apologize somehow, and not just by knocking on his door and simply saying "sorry". That would not do.

After the school day ended, she drove home and decided to make dinner for him. Spaghetti with her specially made meat sauce. Isabelle prayed he was home. Then again, why wouldn't he? What man who had been traumatized at the age of twelve was able to function in a job? Let alone how to function on his own? Maybe that's why he lashed out at her. Perhaps he felt she was intruding on his family's memory or something.

Isabelle shook her head. She was overthinking it all.

She took out all the ingredients, setting them on the island in her kitchen. Before she was going to cook, she'd have to invite to see if he even wanted to come. That was probably the challenging part. What if he decided he didn't want to come? How was she supposed to give a sincere apology on someone's doorstep? She hated when people did that. Doorsteps will be doorsteps: boring.

Many dresses lined her back closet. She had a knack for parties sometimes, and wearing the same dress twice was not something she enjoyed doing. She cursed her mother for giving her that trait.

As she flipped through the rack of dresses, she suddenly stopped. _What the hell am I doing? This isn't a date! This is simply a dinner and a sincere apology!_

Instead, Isabelle worked on her hair first, forgetting the outfit choice. Brushing it to a silky brown, she tossed the brush onto the bathroom counter and stuck with pants and a nice shirt.

She rushed to the main floor and to her front door. It was quite alarming to find-after she opened that door-Trevor holding a platter covered in tin foil. For a moment, they stared at one another. For her, it was because she was secretly laughing to herself at the coincidence and for him, it was because he didn't know how to talk to people well without coming across as cold.

"I..uh, wanted to apologize," he mumbled almost reluctantly. Trevor presented the platter closer to her, and she took it.

Smiling, she thanked him. "I was just about to get you, actually. To invite you over for dinner, that is. I wanted to apologize for being rude."

At this, he laughed. Kind of. It was more of an "oh, please" kind of laugh than a happy and genuine one. "I was the one at fault, and you are smart enough to know that."

Tilting her head, she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. He answered her question before she even had to ask it, "You just look like one of those kinds of people who retain a lot of knowledge. Am I wrong?"

"Actually, you are. I may be book smart, but I ain't no other kind of smarts," she joked. "Would you like to come in? I was just boiling the water for dinner."

"I don't know..."

"Please," she insited, "I bought so much spaghetti and there isn't any way for me to eat it all!" she said in an over-dramatic way.

"If you say so."

Isabelle gestured him in. To her surprise, he wasn't as hesitant walking in as she expected he would be. His mood was back to the grimness, but being in the house where his parents died didn't seem to effect him like it would have affected Isabelle if the situation were reversed. Odd.

The water was now boiling, so she tossed the noodles in and began to brown the meat, adding seasonings and such. Trevor just sat down that the dining table which was still next to the kitchen (being the dining room and the kitchen technically one whole room).

"Forgive me for asking...but does it not bother you to be in this house?"

He shrugged, "I've been in it plenty of times before."

"Oh," she simply said as she sat down talked over the sizzeling meat and the boiling noodles.

"My turn to ask a question-"

"Oh, so now we are in a questioning game, are we? I wasn't aware that I was required to answer a question having asked one. Is that even fair?" she smirked.

Chuckling, he said, "It's entirely fair. Can't expect to get away with personal questions and not having to be asked one. So, have you found or felt anything weird about this house since the first time you've seen it or lived in it?"

The question sounded rehearsed. Almost as if he chose his words carefully to make sure there wasn't any loophole where she could lie. And Isabelle hated lying. She tried not to lie, but exceptions had to be made for the first thought that came into her mind were those films she had found blatantly in the attic.

"No...why do you ask? Are you really into all that supernatural stuff? Ghosts aren't real you know. Although, I admit, I believe the devil likes to control demons to make us think that we are connecting with people who have once lived on this earth. Sometimes, they try to trick us into worshipping the devil. Isn't that so...egotistical?"

"Demon. Yes, that's a better word than ghost," he said, but it sounded like more to himself than to her. She gave him a questioning look, but he was clearly in his own world as he stared at the table.

"Alright, then," she said, setting the table and placing oven-mits down for the hot pot and pan. "Dinner is ready."

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**The Bughuulies:**

**I'll be honest, guys, the genre for this story is definitely part Romance, but I was certainly not aiming in the direction of Trevor. I'm sorry. But to be honest, it could have gone many different directions.**

**It's hard for me to choose, which is why I'm letting you guys do it! :D YAYYYYY CHOOOOSIIIING! Please help me...please don't make me do it!**

**Anyway, thank you Lady Minuialwen, Amber, 2SummerSolstice9, and KnightmareAngel for reviewing! It means so much to me :)**


	3. The Craving for More

**Chapter Three:**

**The Craving for More**

"Thank you for the meal."

They stood on the front of his porch. His house was definitely not the size for a family of more than three, but by himself, it seemed to fit quite nicely. She wondered if he ever felt alone at night...

"You are very welcome, of course." Selfishly due to her guilt, she added, "If you ever want to hang out or have another meal together...you are always welcome to come over. Don't feel the need to be all polite and distant because I bought that house... Which reminds me, do you know... Nevermind." Isabelle mentally slapped herself. She was so close to asking him about the trauma he had to go through. Stupid, stupid.

"No," Trevor insisted, "You can ask."

She still hesitated; the subject was unimaginably sensitive...it had to have been, but the curiosity was great, "What happened? Did you witness it? Did...did you see the killer?"

Rubbing his eyes, he sighed. "I think that story will have to wait."

Isabelle nodded with understanding. She didn't expect him to answer right away.

"Good night, then...uh..."

"Isabelle."

"Right," he smiled, shaking the hand she had offered him, "Trevor. See you some other time." He walked into his house and shut the door.

It was dark outside. The weather was still beautiful; a calming breeze swayed the thin branches on the trees, making creaking sounds that were both eerie and soothing. When she walked back to her house, she looked past the brick walls and into the forest behind. Why Isabelle was drawn to her backyard once more, she wasn't sure.

Reaching the burial place of the box, she patted the unearthed dirt that had been piled back into ground to cover up the films. It didn't appear to be touched: the box was still buried safely in the ground where it belonged.

A gust of wind blew her hair into her face. She shivered. It was time to go inside and go to bed. Yes, the comforts and warmth of her large, king-sized bed sounded heavenly right then.

The house was just as dark as the outdoors had been, but it was much more silent. Not in a calming way, however. She could feel something was different.

A scurrying sound could be heard from somewhere above her, so she walked upstairs into her office. There hadn't been anyone or anything there, like she expected, but the sound came back. This time, it could be heard on the third floor. She walked up yet another flight of stairs, only to hear the scurrying coming from the attic. _Damned rodents_, she cursed to herself.

Taking her cellphone out to light up the attic, she scanned the room, still standing on the steps of the latter.

And there it was: the box of films that she had found the first day she moved in. Another shiver ran down her spine. _How did that get here?_

She was slightly nervous when she picked up the box. When Isabelle brought back once mroe into her office, she considered another plan of action at getting rid of the sucker. However, it was clear someone wanted her to watch more of the films, so why not?

_Because the last one was of a family getting murdered, you idiotic little girl! _her subconcious reminded her.

Rolling her eyes, she took another one of the films. _Family Hanging Out '11._

After the set up of the projector and the screen, the film started to play. Flashes of a family of five playing football and having a picnic were shown. A little girl with a bright red bow in her hair was swinging on a tire swing. It was strange, however, she didn't look in the least bit enthused about the outing.

Suddenly, there was nothing but blackness, and then four people were standing with their hands bound and heads concealed with bags. A ropes were tied around their necks, around the tree branch above them, and tied once more on a branch that was located on the other side of the tree. Something was cutting the branch that held the starting point of the ropes. When the branch broke away almost completely-though, there was just a sliver of it left hanging on-the family started rising up, being suffocated by their lack of ground to stand on. Their feet struggled to find that ground, but it was no use. Finally, they stopped struggling.

Isabelle immediately paused the film and turned away. She didn't understand why she let herself watch these things. It made her stood all the much closer on the edge of sanity. Soon, she would be kissing that sanity goodbye and falling into the pit of madness.

Wiping away the tears that were streaming down her face, she looked back at the screen. Squinting, she saw an odd shape in the background near a bunch of brush. Walking as close as she could to the image, she found herself staring at an odd looking man...if one could call the figure such. His eyes were shadowed over and so was his mouth. His skin looked a sickly grey color. _Was he the one who murdered these families?_

She shook her head, finding herself truly crazy. She needed sleep before moving on with the films and questions. For now, the films would simply be stuffed in her desk drawer until morning came when she was well rested. Yes, that was a solid solution for the time being.

Wait...there was school in the morning.

Isabelle moaned as she remembered that before stuffing the whole damned box into the bottom drawer, then headed for bed. She definitely needed some sleep.

* * *

After school, she drove home as quickly as she could without getting a ticket.

At first, Isabelle had been scared of what she had seen in those films. Now that she thought more about them and the figure she had seen last night, the mystery was too great to pass up. She had to find out more about those murders. After all, the police hadn't figured it out...what if she could? And not just for the sake of curiosity, but what if she could find closure for Trevor?

When Isabelle got home, she thought thoroughly about where she could get more information. Ellison Oswalt was the man who was an ambitious crime writer and he had moved into the house of the hangings to write a book about it. He was on the correct track, which obviously got him and his wife killed along with his only daughter taken. Therefore, it was also clear that he had quite a lot of information dug up that someone didn't want to be dug up.

Rushing to her computer, Isabelle searched the internet for the murder in 2011. It had taken quite some time, but she finally a source of information she could use: Deputy So-and-So, who turned out to be a man named Timothy Henderson. She immediately looke dup the man's number, or at least, the police department's number in that town. When finally getting a hold of them, Isabelle politely asked for a Timothy Henderson.

"Actually, he stopped working here over a decade ago. I'm sorry, is there any other way I can help you?"

"No," Isabelle said politely, feeling disappointed, "Thank you, though."

She hung up, typing 'Deputy Timothy Henderson' into the Google search engine. To her surprise, Deputy Henderson had switched to this very town's own police department.

Jumping out of her chair, she grabbed her jacket and keys. This man had to know something. He was the last person to speak to Ellison Oswalt before he was brutally murdered with his wife beside him. Deputy So-and-So had to know something more than what the police thought they knew.

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**The Bughuulies:**

**Thank you so much for the comment guys :3 even for those who decided not to join the club .**

**But never fear! You can still join, or completely ignore me and continue reading this story. I'd probably do the latter as well!**

**A few things:**

**SOOOOOO sorry for the extrememly long and annoying author's notes in the previous chapter.**

**Ambie Bambie2: Thank you so much for joining and giving me a suggestion :) It means a lot and really does help me write this story. I will admit, that was the first path I thought to take with this story!**

**InkedCupcake92****: Thank you so much for commenting, and I take it you are joining! Yay! Two Bughuulies so far! We got to stick together, yes? And I'm glad you're happy to hear that there isn't any romance for Trevy. Not sure where you would be if there was, haha :)**

**Thank all to those who have commented!**

**P.S. From now on, The Bughuulies Section (aka: the author's notes) will be at the end of each chapter because I WILL be giving credit to the people who had suggestions that inspired each chapter, and I don't want spoilers in the beginning of the chapters.**


	4. More Information

**Chapter Four:**

**More Information**

The police department was a nice mile away from the high school. Probably one of the smartest places to put it in a small town. After all, who hasn't heard of school shootings? They've been happening all over the U.S. since Newtown, Conneticut. After that one shooting back in 2012, more could be heard left and right, which led to a quarter of any town or city's police force stuck in a high school building for eight hours a day.

But why should she complain? It's much better than running the risk of students feeling comfortable enough to take a gun and shoot down as many of their peers as they beleive they can.

Parking her car in the closest spot she could get to, she hopped out and ran into the department. There were many people in uniforms running around with either weapons or papers in their hands. A few men and women were dressed in suits behind a large desk containing computers, telephones, and even more packets papers.

"Excuse me," Isabelle said to the only person not on a telephone: a small lady with a pleasant smile when she noticed she had someone to talk to. "Is there a Deputy Henderson here?"

The lady nodded, "Actually, we have two different officers here by the last name Henderson. Is there one in particular you would like to see?"

"Yes. I believe a Timothy Henderson."

She chuckled, "You got lucky. Today is supposed to be his day off, but is co-worker become ill and Timothy had to report to work. I'll go get him. It'll be a few minutes depending on what he's doing at the moment. You may sit over there in one of those chairs, if you like."

"Thank you." Isabelle walked over to the ugly turqoise chairs that had stuffing from the cushions coming out of it. Clearly, they needed to invest in some nicer chairs. Especially since you could feel the cold metal if you sat just right in it.

Fortunately, the wait wasn't anywhere near as long as doctors would make you wait at a hospital or clinic. In fact, she wasn't so sure ten minutes had passed before the kind lady arrived with a man who appeared in his late thirties to early forties. The lady pointed to Isabelle in a gesture of who had requested him personally. She then went back to her station and began taking calls.

Isabelle stood up and held out her hand, "Isabelle Jennings."

He smiled a quircky kind of smile. It was clear he wasn't a very social fellow... He appeared rather depressed as well. Almost as if he had been through more than he should have the first forty years of his life. "Timothy Henderson. Is there a problem?"

"Well, I was just wanting to know if you had about twenty minutes to speak with me in private."

He nodded, "Of course. You may come into my office if you like."

Timothy walked her behind the desks of people taking calls and took her down a narrow hall with multiple offices with names engraved on plaques: _Kent Moore, George Smith, Elise Linton, Rebecca Thomas, Henry Jiles, Kacey Padding, Timothy Henderson._

"Ladies first," he said after he opened his door and gestured her inside.

She walked in and sat down right away in the chair meant for visitors. It was time to get down to business. No more waiting. There was planning to do for school tomorrow, and it was already 5:30 in the evening.

Timothy made his way to his desk, then sat down at his chair, "It's odd you requested me."

"I know... Forgive if I may be crossing a line, but I moved into the house of the 2012 murder recently. I believe, as the owner of that house, I have a right to be told the full story."

"Actually," he corrected with a quircky smile no longer on his face, "You have a right to know what happened, but not to the full degree. I suggest you move out of that house, Ms. Jennings. It isn't a...safe house to live in. Especially for such a young lady like you. I can't imagine you having any kids..." he began trailing. In Isabelle's point of view, he completely changed the subject. However, Deputy So-and-So thought otherwise. In fact, what he had to ask was entirely relevant, "Do you have kids, Ms. Jennings? Or maybe it's Mrs. Jennings?"

Isabelle shook her head. She supposed he needed to warm up to her before he gave her anything she could work with, "Actually, it's Miss Jennings. I'm not married. Nor do I have any kids." _Patience, Isabelle, _she reminded herself. One of the few things she needed to learn was patience. Normally, she could deal quite well and let people take their time; however, if there was something she wanted, it was difficult to remain patient.

He tilted his head in confusion, "Hmm...I wonder what would happen now..."

"Excuse me, I'm sorry, but I'm not quite following what you're saying. What does me having a family or not have to do with anything?"

He shrugged unconvincingly, "Not sure-Please, listen to me. Leave that house."

Timothy appeared insistant upon her leave. This could be the key to getting that information. On the inside, she smiled, "I'll make you a deal. Give and tell me all the information you have, and I will move into a house across town."

He rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb. When he looked at her, his eyes were tired and sorrowful, "Giving you all the information would defeat the purpose of moving away."

"How so?"

"Ms. Jennings, I appreciate you coming directly to me with this and not stirring up the rest of the town with that horrific event, but I must as you to leave. I'm not going to give you information you aren't legally required to have. I'm sorry, really." He truly did look sorry...but mostly worried. Timothy stood up, offering his hand to her. She took it and stood up as well, feeling disappointed at how she had come here only to gain no knowledge of the happenings than she had before she drove here.

Before he opened the door for her, Isabelle remembered something. It was a risk to say so, but she should at least try to pry more out of this Deputy So-and-So, "The reason I came was because I found a box of films in my attic. They were horrendous films of the murders that had happened during and before the murder here. I saw a figure in one of them... Have the police tried searching for that figure in the films? Have they even looked at them?"

The second she had mentioned the box of films, his head had whipped back to her, eyes wide. Timothy dropped his hand from the doorknob, "You saw _him_?"

"Yes, I did. The man with black hair... I couldn't see much of him, though. His eyes and mouth were shadowed over. The image was small as well. Have the police not looked more into that man?"

He gently took hold of both her upper arms and made her sit back down in the visitor's chair. When he sat down in his own chair, his voice was no longer calm, it was rushed with hints of nervousness, "Alright..._dammit._ I'll give you what I have and what I know, but on one condition."

"Yes, anything."

"You can't tell anybody about any of it. No telling of any of the information, that man, the murders, the children...none of it. You can't tell a single person. Ever. Don't even mention anything to the man living next door to you either. Do you hear me?" His eyes were rid of the tired, depressing emotions. He was now staring at her intently, silently praying none of this would get out to anyone else.

"Trevor? Does he not already know, though?"

"Oh, no. I'm sure he knows. I'm sure he knows everything there is to know. After all, it was Trevor who was able to receive all of his father's belongings after he died. Including all his research on the murders that soon ended with this... But I guess the murders are starting again... With you."

A chill ran through her body. No way was she letting herself get murdered when she still had a week left of being twenty-one. Young for a college graduate, yes, but her birthday was September 1st. She had no control over having a very late birthday.

"I believe Ellison Oswalt, the one who was murdered with his wife, had pretty much all the information one could ever dream of on all of these murders. But all the notes, pictures, videos, clips, paintings, stories, and whatever else he had are with Trevor. I honestly cannot give you anything other than a few things I know myself. First, all of the murders have been families with both a husband and a wife along with children. Second, there is always a single child who is taken and never to be seen again. Third, the murders always dealt with those films that you found in your attic. You aren't supposed to watch them, but when you do, the second you move into a different house, you're dead. That's how he keeps the cycle going. Lastly...once you see Bughuul, nothing can save you... And you've already seen him, Ms. Jennings. The only odd thing is that you don't have children. He always takes the children, but you don't have any."

She nodded and thought for a moment, "So, I'm safe, right? If it's the children he's after, and I have none, then I'm useless."

Timothy had to think about the situation as well for a while. "No, I don't believe you're safe. He will keep tormenting you until you decide to move, he will then find a way to kill you himself, and all he will have to do is wait for the next family to come, hoping they will have children with them this time."

"Sounds like you know this man well."

"Oh, no. Not well. I believe he needs those children for some reason. They're like...valuable in some sense, but I'm not sure why. I was never able to so much as touch Ellison Oswalt's reports," he sighed.

"I'm not quite sure I understand all of this. How does the killer know that someone has seen his image? Is he always spying on me? I think we should bait the man and have a police force in hiding to pop out and arrest him at the right moment!"

He chuckled at her enthusiasm and imagination, but he quickly grew solemn once more. "This isn't an actual man we are talking about. This is something supernatural and more sinister than you can even comprehend."

Isabelle sighed. She wanted so badly now to get a hold of Ethan Oswalt's stash of information, but there wasn't any way Trevor would ever let her see it.

There had to be some way, and Isabelle was going to find it no matter the extent she will have to take.

* * *

**The Bughuulies:**

**Lady**** Minuialwen: ****That means so much to me! Thank you so much for such a wonderful compliment; I appreciate it greatly, and I am happy to hear you enjoy the story so much!**

**Jo: I'm glad you like where this is going! I hope I continue on that path so your enjoyment doesn't end :)**

**mmorgane: Thanks so much! Yes, no romance for long-haired Trevvy! Haha, glad you are happy with that choice that I made! Thanks for commenting!**

**Thank you so much for those who continue to comment! It really truly does help me continue to write this! This story would definitely not have gotten past the first two chapters without you guys.**

**I have, as promised, taken in all the suggestions that you guys have given. I STILL WANT MORE SUGGESTIONS FOR EVENTS/HAPPENINGS/ETC. IT'S REALLY NICE TO GET INTO OTHERS' IMAGINATIONS!**

**P.S. This chapter may have been boring for you guys, but it was actually the most fun for me! Weird, I know.**

**I love you, Bughuulies**


	5. Night Terrors: Part One

**Chapter Five:**

**Night Terrors: Part One**

"Do you think Trevor would recognize you from thirteen years ago?" Isabelle asked Deputy Timothy Henderson.

He had walked her to her car after they were done speaking to one another about this sinister man. "I don't believe so. I've never really met the kid. I only heard things about him."

"What if you pretended that you had to take those boxes of information to the police station? Saying something like its evidence to an unsolved crime?" she suggested in hopes that it wouldn't be long before she could get the box in her possession.

"I'm awful at lying..."

"Oh, please at least try once."

He nodded. He, too, was craving to learn something he had to resist for thirteen years now. "I'll see what I can do. If I do get it...I'll drop by your house or something. Maybe you should look at all that stuff before I see it just to make sure I can handle it. The supernatural..." he trailed off cringing, "No way would I be able to spend even five minutes at night at your house," he chuckled half-heartedly. When he said it, Timothy seemed to disappear right then, into another time that has long passed.

"Thank you again for all your help."

He nodded, "Maybe I'll finally have a new partner in these crimes again."

* * *

Isabelle was finally home. It was 5:55 and there was still three hours left to get school things done.

The work only took an hour. A lot less than she expected. Then again, she mostly skimmed the essays and gave a hundred percent if they wrote at least something down. What she was more interested in were her first hour's essays they wrote the other day. Most of what they wrote was completley off, especially the parts about what the killer looked like.

_He has curly brown hair and is aproximately five-eleven in heighth._

_The killer has long gray hair and is probably like a hundred years old now._

_The little girl Ashley was taken, and it was her father who murdered the whole family!_

Well, the last one was the most intriguing. Had this student not heard that the father of the family was murdered as well?

Sighing, she tucked all the graded papers back into her school bag. She began thinking about Deputy Timothy Henderson again. How long will it take him to retrieve the information?

Should she occupy her time with those films? Should she get some sleep? Should she simply talk to Trevor and see how he was doing? After all, at the current moment, she as a little anxious. Probably due to not speaking to too many people her own age. She had such a huge house to herself and nobody to share it with. It grew very lonely, very quickly.

Films, it is.

Getting up from the dining room table, she ran up one flight of stairs and into her office. Looking through the row of films, she picked up _Pool Party '66._ This was the first murder that had occurred. She cursed herself for putting herself through more gruesome images as she placed the film into the projector. She flipped the switch, lighting up the projection screen.

There was a family of five on the screen. Two parents, of course, two girls and a boy. They were all throwing a beach ball around a pear-shaped pool. A boy slid down a slide and into the water. They then were sitting around a patio table with a large umbrella shading them. They ate and drank and chatted happily. That's when the lightness of both the mood and the day vanished. It was now night. A faint light from the camera was barely lighting where it was filming. The camera moved from the lone beach ball floating in the pool to a green vase that was placed on that patio table, and then appeared figures tied to lounge chairs with ropes wrapped around the bars of the chairs. One by one, the chairs were pulled into the water. The families' feets were wiggling as they struggled to breath.

Finally, the camera moved to the left, and there he was: the dark man with shadowed eyes, long black hair, and a billowing black trench coat.

Once more, Isabelle paused the screen to take in the man in the screen. He certainly didn't look like a man. Maybe he was wearing a mask... Why would he be wearing a mask underwater, then? Maybe it was to make himself look more creepy. Well, if that was what he was aiming for, he most definitely succeeded.

She felt herself unable to look away from the figure's face. How in the world was he to stand in the water like that with nothing holding him down?

Isabelle plopped herself into the rolling chair behind her desk, leaving the projector screen on.

Slow footsteps were echoing above her, which made Isabelle jump. Before deciding to investigate, she let herself listen some a while longer. They were strangly slow; almost like the person was on an evening stroll rather than an intruder probably stealing or wanting to murder somebody.

Her first thought was to grab a weapon, but she wasn't intelligent enough to keep one in all hidden corners of the house. The only practical item was a kitchen knife located on the other side of the house and on a separate floor. She could make it quietly, she was sure...or she thought she was sure. After all, the house was larger than any house for one person should be.

Sucking in a large breath, Isabelle took silent steps all the way down to the kitchen while the intruder's steps had stopped. Halfway down the stairs, it was too late to stop now, so she made a run for the utensil drawer, expecting the footsteps to pick up after hearing her scramble. Yet, there wasn't a single muffled sound.

Nothing.

The largest knife in the drawer looked only slightly smaller than a butcher's knife. Good enough.

"Come at me," she whispered in an attempt to build confidence in herself for whoever was invading her home.

What little courage she had managed to muster vanished completely when the footsteps resounded. This time, they were much smaller, and there was more than one pair of them as well. She prayed, _please just be rats...please just be rats._

She walked up two flights of stairs, placing herself directly bellow the trapdoor leading to the attic. By now, the footsteps had already receded, silencing the night once more. Isabelle contemplated on whether to search the attic for what she had believed to be intruders and what she had prayed for were rats.

_Screw this, _she thought as another shiver ran down her spine. There was no way she was stooping so low to be as stupid as the characters in all those horror movies were. Instead, she crawled into bed and covered her eyes with the silky sheets. _Soon, morning will come._

* * *

Isabelle woke up to the sound of the projector reverberating.

She sat up slowly, listening intently. Yes, the sound was real; she wasn't simply dreaming.

Her bedroom was on the same floor as her office, which was both a convenience and an inconvenience. As of right now, it was clearly an inconvenience, and it wasn't so just because it woke her up. It was more than obvious now that there was an intruder; rats weren't knowledgable enough to be able to turn on even something as simple as a Super 8 projector.

Now in her office, she saw the projection screen lit up with a projection that looked both familiar and unfamiliar. She hadn't seen this hallway in one of the films, but she recognized the hallway was the one directly outside of the office that she was standing in, but the one on the screen had blood splattered all along the walls. Some of the blotches created sinister images like angry looking dogs or skulls that seemed to be laughing.

Isabelle walked closer to the screen. The camera was moving, examining all the images painted in blood. When the camera reached the end of the hallway, it started to zoom out. There was a flicking light coming from the office archway, then the flickering had suddenly stopped. The figure from all those other films as now in full view, coming out of the office on the projector screen. His hair was a black stringy mess, his face so unhuman-like just as she had seen in the pool film. The figure's footsteps were slow, and-God-forbid she think this-graceful. But there was something completely off.

_I can hear every footstep he makes._

That wasn't right. The Super 8 films don't give off any sounds. They are only silent films to be watched, not heard.

Just as her focus was back on the screen, the figure disappeared and the footsteps ceased.

Then, there was a slight breath in her ear, and she jumped, but dared not to turn around. A sandpaper-like hand barely touched her neck before a piercing scream echoed outside.

That scream wasn't hers.

* * *

**The Bughuulies:**

**DUN DUN DUN DUN!**

**Well, I thought it'd be nice to give this chaotic night two parts, so it's going to be a two-part special. Aren't ya'll lucky!**

**I thank every single one of you so much for continuing to read this and bothering to review it. It means so much! I know it took a while for this part to come up,_ but it got up because I kept on getting reviews! _Keep it up:)**

**I love you, Bughuulies!**


	6. Night Terrors: Part Two

**Chapter Six:**

**Night Terrors: Part Two**

Isabelle forced herself to turn around, but there wasn't anyone there.

The scream pierced through the night again. Checking out the scream actually appeared like a more comforting decision rather than stay put where she had felt breathing and fingers touching her neck.

The noise sounded like it was coming from the back end of her house, so she jogged across the kitchen to the back door. Once outside, the screams were closer than Isabelle would have liked to acknowledge. In fact, she was sure that the screams were coming right from the forest fifty feet away.

Finally, a figure came into view, shivering and naked.

Isabelle recognized Trevor's long hair and plump lips. However, his eyes were closed and he was in fetal position. She had never seen any scene such as this, and she had no idea how to help.

Crouching down, she tried shaking him awake, but it didn't work. She began to worry that something was seriously wrong with him.

"Trevor," she said, continuing to shake him, "What's wrong? What's happening?" Nothing seemed to unfaze him. "Look at me, Trevor! Wake up! Open your eyes." She slapped his face a few times, then held it still in her hands, "Look at me!"

His eyes fluttered slightly before opening as wide as a deer's in headlights. Even in the darkness, Isabelle could make out Trevor's beat-red face, and when he realized the state he was in: butt-naked and being held close to her. Isabelle became just as red. She got up, turned away, then stripped herself of her pajama bottoms. "Um...you can wear these while you go to your house," she suggested as she tossed them behind her, not daring to look back.

Only slightly could she hear that he was actually putting them on.

"Thank you," he mumbled. "I'm sorry for all the commotion. Uh, I should go to bed... I'll wash these and give them back tomorrow."

"No need to rush in giving them back. Are you sure there isn't anything else I could do for you?"

There was a pause. It was quite a few seconds before he finally answered, "Is everything okay with you?"

She was utterly confused now. "What do you mean?"

"It was a simple and straight-to-the-point question," he said rather harshly. So there's the old Trevor that she had first met.

"I'm quite dandy, thank you," she answered in just as a harsh voice.

Another pause, then Trevor seemed to mumble something to himself that clearly wasn't meant for her to hear, but she had anyways, "Alright, as long as its the truth."

When the cool breeze of the night brushed against her bare legs, she decided to walk towards her house, not looking back at Trevor. The only sound she heard the entire way to the back door was her own footsteps. Not once did she hear Trevor's until after she shut that back door.

* * *

Unfortunately for Isabelle, the morning came too soon. It was unknown what time she actually went to bed, but it was clear that it wasn't at a decent time.

Stretching, she took a quick shower, dried her hair, changed into decent clothes, and headed towards the high school.

After the first class piled in and the bell rang, Billy raised his hand, but spoke without even being called upon, "You have bags under your eyes, Ms. Jennings."

Isabelle gave a snarky smile, "Why thank you, Billy, that's so kind of you."

Julie began talking next, "Did you finally go crazy in that house? Did you start hearing things? Sometimes, after being consistantly told a house is haunted, one starts to imagine things; however, ghosts don't actually exist. A lot of people think they do because-"

"Shut up, Julie. Just because you are upset about never having seen a ghost, doesn't mean you get to automatically claim that they aren't real," Billy mocked her.

"Alright, alright," Isabelle said, "Enough talk about the house. I have books to hand out that you are all expected to pick and read over the course of the next three weeks."

Most of the class groaned minus a few guys and girls including Julie, whom were all excited to finally dig into the curriculum of English.

"Come on, now. At least I let you guys choose your book rather than force you to read super old literature," she chuckled. Isabelle went to the storage room in the back of the classroom and dug out the boxes of novels, which included a range of classic to modern literature. It was a better strategy to give the class not only the choice, but a variety as well to encourage them to read more.

A majority of the class, of course, went with more modern books, but those who are avid readers picked otherwise. Isabelle was pleased, for the class didn't seem to groan as much when they discovered the extensive stack of books. The process of choosing was actually a lot less organized, which made it more fun. Isabelle simply tossed books left and right all throughout the room. Every student simply got to wander around, chatter, and whatnot while they picked. This was not only a bonus for the students, but for the teacher as well. Last night-she was sure it went into early this morning as well-was rough. Exhausted, she wasn't sure if she could have done much more than let the students do their own thing while she processed earlier events.

A minute before the bell rang, all she had to do was force herself into the current moment and say, "Now that you all have your books, your first assignment is to finish one chapter over the weekend and discuss to the class what is happening in the book so far." Perfect timing, the bell rang and everyone left.

Six more periods to go.

* * *

Home sweet home.

And right as she is ready to relax, all comfortable in pajamas, the doorbell rings loud throughout the house. Isabelle forced herself off the couch in the living, walking over to the front door.

It was Deputy So-and-So.

"What are you-" she began but was surprised to see three boxes all around his feet, and a triumphant grin plastered on his face.

"I did it! I was able to retrieve the boxes! I think it was due to Trevor not wanting these damned suckers in the first place... He seemed mighty happy when I said I had to take them away. Here you go!" He picked up a box, handing it to Isabelle, and then picked up that last two and walked inside, setting them down on the island counters in the elegant kitchen.

"Wow..." he whispered. "This place is huge." Turning to the owner of the home, he said in a normal voice, "Does it get lonely in this big house all by yourself? Especially knowing all you do about the murder..."

Has it gotten lonely? No...lonely wasn't the right word. Although, she did miss having family living with her. Even a lover was something she always dreamed of having, but clearly nobody found her appealing.

She shook her head. That was not the matter at hand. "No, not really. I kind of like it by myself." Small white lies never hurt anybody. Especially when the truth doesn't concern anybody.

"Is there any place you want these? Like an office or something?"

She nodded, "Yes, follow me."

They both re-picked up the boxes and set them in her office with the projector still planted on that large box in the middle of the room. Just how the projector should be: off and silent.

The boxes were set on top of the desk, covering it almost entirely. It was so plain that she had a lot of work to do. Work that didn't even involve getting paid. But hopefully, it would be worth, and hopefully, she would find a way to stop whoever this person or creature is.

"I appreciate this a lot," Isabelle said to the deputy.

He nodded, "Though, I don't think you should thank me. This stuff is pretty serious. Be careful alright?"

She nodded in reply. Isabelle then walked Deputy Henderson out with one last thank you, watching him drive off.

And now, it was finally time to get down to business.

It was nearing eight o clock and all she found were notes on just the murders and questions that Ellison had that were more detective-like than anything: _where's Stephanie, how did the box get in the attic, _etc.

Moving on to the next box, she found photos and contacts. The photos held a strange symbol that seemed repeatedly painted in a dark red on various places: walls, a vehicle... It was the same symbol she saw in the film _Sleepy Time '98._

She took out the films from her desk drawer to examine them. She had watched _Sleepy Time '98, Pool Party '66,_ and _Family Hanging Out '11. _The other ones she had yet dared to touch. Should she watch another one or save herself the horror? It was tempting for some odd, twisted reason. Shaking her head and scolding herself, she shoved the films back into the drawer.

There were more photos than just of those symbols. There were enlarged imagines of the one behind all the chaos: Bughuul, as the deputy called him.

"Bughuul," she whispered to herself, "What sick game are you playing?" It saddened her to be reminded of the families that had to die...even the children that died. How can anyone be so cold hearted as to murder such innocent little human beings?

_No_, she scolded to herself, _this isn't a normal human being we are talking about._

There was a loud bang, interrupting her focus on the creature in the photo. She looked above her to where the sound came from. It all honesty, the creepy noises, banging, thuds, and footsteps were beginning to get quite old. So old, that Isabelle was no longer scared. She was annoyed.

Having been prepared this time, she grabbed a kitchen knife that she had decided to keep on the desk while she was researching. Walking upstairs, she looked in every room that surrounded the office below. Her last destination: the master bathroom.

And in it was a message written in marker across the large mirror: _It's you._

* * *

**The Bughuulies:**

**I AM SO SO SO SORRY THAT IT TOOK SO LONG! BUGHUUL HASN'T EATEN MY SOUL, I SWEAR!**

**You know how high school is...so much stupid tests and homework. I will continue this story, don't worry :)**

**Thank you to all those who reviewed!**

**LadyEpic101:**** Bagel. Haha! Bagels are nummy! :3 By the way, have you kicked a whale's anus yet?**

**PLLML:**** Of course you can join! Welcome, fellow Bughuulie :) I'm happy that you have joined our little cult, haha! And yes, the romance seems very popular, so I just might decide to go with it. Thanks so much for reviewing, fellow Bughuulie!**

**xLunaAngelWarriorx: Yes! You are entirely welcomed! The more Bughuulies, the scarier as we always say. I so much appreciate you reviewing! I'm happy to hear you enjoy the story. The romance thing with Bughuul is already into consideration now that you and so many others want to read that. I really love all the ideas and suggestions you have given me! I will definitely see if I can do something with a few of them. Thanks again :)**

**You all don't know how much I appreciate each and every review. The only motivation I have for continuing stories is mostly because you guys tell me you enjoy it. I hope you all keep it up and stay patient with me if I get caught up in all the school crap! Two months to go and I will be free to give you crap loads of Bughuul-ness!**


	7. The Sinister Legend

**A/N: I'm so so so sorry for the long period of absence. Like I said, school is a big fat *****. Anyway, I am back and so happy to be back as well as happy to see so many reviews. I just hope you Bughuulies haven't given up on me! **

**To make up for the long absence, I decided to get on with this story to the point where the real fun begins. TODAY, YOU WILL READ MY VERSION OF BUGHUUL AND HIS LIKE-NESS. **

**DISCLAIMER:**** I HAVE MADE UP MY OWN VERSION OF BUGHUUL'S LEGEND. FORGIVE ME IF YOU LIKE THE ORIGINAL BETTER THAN THIS ONE. SORRY!**

**But for the sake of making this story my own, I made up a legend to kind of fit the whole story I came up with and the ideas you all have given. I pray you do enjoy :)**

**NOTE: Sorry if I mix up the days of the week and the timeline and stuff. I do have issues with that :/**

**Chapter Seven:**

**The Sinister Legend**

A chill ran throughout her entire body. After a few moments of staring at the writing, she began laughing to herself. _It could have been blood, it could have been blood, _she repeated over and over. Well, Isabelle wasn't sure how to react to this situation considering she had never been in such a situation. Should she call the police? Ask Trevor to come and investigate or to keep her company?

None of those ideas sounded appropriate.

For starters, she made a promise to Deputy So-and-So not to get anyone involved or tell anyone of Bughuul. And lastly, Trevor wouldn't do much nor was he a friend of sorts. At least, on his part it was clear he didn't care to be a friendly kind of neighbor.

Issy sighed and walked into her office to retrieve a few dry erase markers. It was clear that the marker used on her mirror was a permanent one and for some odd reason, going over permanent with dry-erase seemed to get rid of it.

Going back into the bathroom and looking at the writing again gave the same electric chill. What did these two words even mean? Who's you? Why her? What about her?

She watched the red marker cover the black and then rubbed it away with papertowels.

It was apparent that Isabelle needed to solve this mystery fast before someone actually does get hurt. Which was another thing: what was going on with Trevor and his episode the other night? He was so out of it...so vulnerable...so _scared._ Timothy did say something about the supernatural. Could this supernatural creature torment Trevor without so much as stepping a foot outside her house? If that was the case she needed an expert on taking out the supernatural. Like a priest or something.

Luckily, Ellison Oswalt left a phone number and Skype account to contact Professor Jonas, an expert on such legends.

Phone calls appealed to her more. She decided to sleep the night off and wait to call him in the morning

* * *

"Hello?" a deep, raspy voice answered. A harsh cough soon followed.

"Ah, yes, is uh a Mr. Jonas there?"

"I am him. Who is this?"

"Isabelle Jennings. I obtained your number from the late Ellison Oswalt's old research from thirteen years ago, about the legend of a man named Bughuul."

There was a ragged chuckle on the other line, "You mean the legend of a supernatural creature that is merely just a story and not much more?"

"Sure," Isabelle said, holding in an impatient sigh.

"What questions do you have?"

"I want to know the entire legend of Bughuul. Anything and everything to possibly know about him."

"Hmm... Tell you what, I have an article somewhere in my mess of papers with everything I've found on that legend. Mind you, it might take me a day or so to find it. I can mail all my research on that legend including the article if you like." There was some more coughing and sputtering. "Not too well these days. Don't think I will find that stuff of much value or use to me anymore."

Isabelle felt a sick sort of excitement, "That would be absolutely fantastic. Thank you so much!"

"Of course, goodbye, Miss Isabelle." The line went dead. Now all she had to do was wait patiently for that article and other findings. Hopefully she wouldn't have to wait more than a week. At least she would get all the original stuff from a professor. Now that was pretty darn cool. In the mean time, she would have to occupy her time with the rest of Mr. Oswalt's findings. Not that there was much left she hadn't already read.

There were also the films. She had yet to watch all of them as well. Maybe-

The ringing of her doorbell sounded throughout the house. Isabelle ran downstairs and to the front door.

To much surprise, she saw Trevor standing there with her clean pajama pants folded neatly in his hands.

"Uh... Thanks again," he said sort of awkwardly, but not taking his eyes from her face.

Isabelle took her pants from him, flashing a small smile, "Not a problem. You're okay, right?"

"Mhm. Well, I should be heading home... Lot of stuff to do." He began walking down her porch before she could answer him.

Shutting the door, she tossed her pants aside, wishing she had those papers of that professor's.

* * *

Nothing had made her more happy than when she opened her mailbox a week and a half later to a very large box of papers. Not as large as one of Ellison Oswalt's boxes, but still bigger than she had expected. Actually, she was expecting a yellow packet folder, not any sort of box. Boxes were better...because they were bigger...which meant more information.

Isabelle sat down in her desk chair and destroyed the top opening of the box. She took out all the papers, throwing the cardboard aside.

To be honest, she was hoping to find some sort of way out of the hauntings she was tossed into. Instead, she read the horrors of what Professor Jonas had found and written into a nice, summarized article_._

_The legend of Bughuul is such an ancient legend, the original must be completely obscured by now. However, it is sacred drawings of old tribes from thousands of years ago that lead me to believe his true craving: children. What the children are truly for is still vague. I have researched many different reasons as to why such a deity would want these innocent beings. The most logical reason is to feed off their souls. They are such naive, simple creatures to attain, so it would be most practical for Bughuul to feast off them if he never wished to fight through a challenge. Other rumors and myths of this legend for reasons are as follows: souvenirs after murdering a family as do a lot of serial killers of today, company all to himself, children for his lover. The last of these three was also into consideration due to another rumor of Bughuul having a rough childhood. His childhood is quite a story within itself. As far as I have heard/read, Bughuul was once as normal of a human being as the next guy. His parents never took proper care of him, he was neglected, never went to school, kids next door would tease and hurt him. He began playing with dark magic which soon led to the corruption of his very soul, leaving him no longer human, but a demonic deity. Having never been loved by anyone, he is eager to seek out his "soulmate". However, this idea isn't logical due to how old he would be today. Other additions to this version of the legend include this mysterious lover to be fond of children, but she herself is incapable of being able to have her own. Which is precisely why Bughuul takes all these children alive: for her. If this mysterious lady were to ever truly love him as he seemingly would her, it is said that Bughuul would stop the massacres of these families. But as I have already written, Bughuul is more likely to consume the souls of the children because he needs to feed off of them. He does this by crossing worlds through videos and images. By moving from his torturous haunting, a family would be immediately slaughtered with a child missing as well. I have yet to hear of anyone who has yet to move while seeing Bughuul's image, but-_

So on and so forth. Isabelle knew most of the rest. She didn't care to read it. Was there more to this story than any one of them (i.e. herself, Professor Jonas, Ellison, and Henderson) could have ever comprehended?

A shiver ran down her spine, tears brimming her eyes as she picked up her phone. For a long while, she stared at it unsure whether she might be crazy or not.

What if it was just a trick? Just a burglar? Kids pulling pranks? Trevor trying to shoo her off?

Maybe this very article was the joke. Maybe it was Jonas's last dying wish to mock her with the fact that a deity was looming around her house, breathing on her neck, watching her every move, writing messages on her mirror, and there wasn't a single thing she could do about it.

It was worth a try despite all of it.

Isabelle dialed the number, hearing it ring. She still couldn't help but feel more than just scared...she felt almost violated in some kind of way.

"Hello?" a nice lady's voice answered.

It took a moment for Isabelle to answer, still confused as to what exactly she was thinking.

"Uh...yes... I want to make an appointment for a check-up," Isabelle finally replied.

"Alright, what is your name?"

"Isabelle Jennings."

There were some scratching sounds of a pen on paper heard from the other line. "And could you state any concerns you may have, so the doctor knows what he or she is checking for."

"Yes... Um...I think I might be infertile."

* * *

**DUNDUNDUNDUNNNNNN!**

**The Bughuulies:**

**Still sorry this thing is late!**

**To those who have given me any sort of suggestions to move this story along:**** Thank you so much for your help with my story. All of the ideas are great and I can't wait to use them! Don't worry, credit will be given. IF I HAVE USED SOMETHING AND FORGOTTEN TO GIVE CREDIT, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME.**

**Thank you "By" for realizing the stupid mistake I made. I can't believe I got the character's and the actor's name mixed up! HAHA!**

**the noah clans pure madness:**** OF COURSE YOU CAN JOIN! WE WOULD BE SO HAPPY TO HAVE YOU :D**

**breathe:**** I don't think I will have much insight on the children's friend's thoughts, but some other insights will be added, no doubt!**

**drawnoflife:**** Yes, join! We are glad to have you in our lil ol club! Thanks for reviewing!**

**Again, thank you all for reviewing, it means so much! I will try to update sooner especially since it's summer and I have nothing better to do!**

**A/N:**** There is still details left out of the legend, obviously, so I will put more in later (most likely the next chapter, don't know, we will see, but it will come eventually!)...That kind of rhymed darn it!**


	8. The Horrors Continue

**Chapter Eight:**

**The Horrors Continue**

Just a few more hours, she thought to herself as she put on a pair of black dress pants. All Isabelle needed to do was last until school ended, and she could go on her way to the clinic on the other side of town.

Throughout the day her mind kept finding its way back to the subject of Bughuul. Since the beginning, she thought all the happenings, coincidences, and whatnots were mere jokes. Finally, Isabelle started to consider the counter-thought: what if it was all real?

If the legends were true, a part of her felt bad for the creepy man in the long black jacket. If the legends were true, another part was angry that the psycho would dare approach families in such horrific ways. If the legends were true, there might not be any way out of this supernatural mess. She might have to live her life forever in that big, empty house with a deity that wanted to torment her into...what? Loving him? That didn't sound right.

Isabelle shook her head as the last bell of the day rang. She tucked away all her folders and school supplies into her black bag, quickly heading out the door. But sadly only to be stopped by the school principal.

"Miss Jennings, I have been hearing great reviews about you," said the thirty-three year old woman. She had a nice head of thick, black hair that curled right at her shoulders. "Not only from the students, but from the staff as well. I'm happy to have you on board at this high school."

She tried putting on her best smile to hide her thinning patience, "Thank you. I do love it here, and I would also love to stay and chat, but I have a doctor's appointment in ten minutes."

"Oh, sorry to hold you back. Maybe we can chat over your lunch break tomorrow afternoon?" she asked with a slight raise of her right brow.

"Yeah, sure, sounds great." Isabelle gave a nod, then burst into a fast walk to her vehicle.

God only knew how much she was truly dreading the coincidence she was sure to hear from the doctor.

* * *

"Yes, you are in fact infertile due to early menopause."

Isabelle stared at the doctor slightly dumbfounded, "But I'm twenty-two; that doesn't make any sense."

"There are many cases of early menopause in which the cause is unknown. You are one of those many cases. I'm sorry to have broken such news to you. Did you have a husband or some significant other you wanted to have help when breaking the news to or-"

"No. No, thank you. I guess I will be on my way. Thanks for the check up." She checked out of the clinic, heading for her car in deep thought. She suspected something off in her female organs. She hadn't ever had regular cycles. In fact, the last cycle she had was when she was nineteen years of age. That seemed like ages ago.

Isabelle finally hit a bump in the road. She was infertile, so what? That didn't actually prove anything, did it? The only thing it proved was that if she ever wanted to have her own children whom are flesh and blood, she was tough out of luck. However, that didn't mean this supernatural creature existed.

_But I saw him in the films._

Then again, those were films. They could have been edited, or it could have been a trick of the lighting.

Looking at the clock, it was nearing dinner time. Right on cue, her stomach rumbled in demand for something to eat.

Isabelle put the car in drive and took off out of the parking lot.

Once she got home she ate some leftovers from the previous night...or maybe that had been two nights ago... Now she couldn't remember.

Hopefully, most of the things that have happened were just of her imagination. Maybe her brain was so overwhelmed with the horrific murders of the families in the films that she had made up everything after in her head.

Isabelle's phone rang right after she finished her meal. She answered with a weary hello.

"Hello, Ms. Jennings, this is Deputy So-and-So," a chirpy voice said on the other line. "I was just curious to know whether or not you found anything new in Oswalt's boxes?"

"Not a whole lot..." she trailed off. A small part of her was considering whether she should mention the new findings she found in that article the professor had sent, but even she was still trying to wrap her head around it. Even she thought the legend was the most proposterous myth she had ever heard of, so what would the deputy think?

"Well, if you do I'll give you my home phone number so you can call me. Or, you can call me if you ever need anything."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Isabelle wrote the number down thinking that she would never actually call him for anything. Especially of the new legend she believed was the true one that fit with it all almost perfectly.

He hung up the phone, leaving her entirely alone in that big, empty house.

Sadly, it was already night and nearing ten o' clock. She would have to rise early for yet another day of teaching. Not to mention a lunch date with the principal. _That ought to be a great time_, she thought chuckling to herself. It wasn't that she didn't like her boss, but it was more of the fact that she didn't like socializing with others. Especially bosses. It made her nervous and break out into a cold sweat.

Isabelle walked up to her room to change into comfortable clothes for the night.

It wasn't long after crawling into bed when she heard little sobbing sounds outside her bedroom door. They sounded like a little girl crying.

She shivered, not knowing whether this was a trick again. However, if a child was sobbing, clearly she needed help. Sighing huskily at herself, she climbed out of bed and put a hand cautiously on the door knob. The sobs still continued, so she opened her door and peered into the direction of it. Issy listened again walking completely out of her room. The cries seemed to come from the ground floor.

As soon as she made it quietly to the first floor, she expected to be heard; therefore, ceasing the sounds, but that was not the case.

Her tentative listening led her to the kitchen.

And there, looking out of a window, was a little girl with red hair.

The girl placed a longing hand on the windowpane as she furthered her sobbing. Isabelle wasn't sure whether to simply get her attention, ask her a question, or just walk up to her.

Finally deciding, she said, "Little girl, are you alright?"

The girl quickly turned around. Her complexion was paler than anyone Isabelle had ever seen, and her eyes were a puffy red from all the sobbing.

The little one wiped her nose with the back of her hand then side-stepped away from the window.

"Can you tell me what's wrong? Where are your parents?"

The little girl swallowed, looking slightly conflicted as if she had a few select options on how to react, but she didn't know which to pick.

Suddenly, the girl shuttered and looked upwards at the ceiling. "He's coming," she whispered.

Isabelle believed she knew exactly who _he _was. She quickly picked up the girl in her arms. "Don't worry, I have a great hiding place," she said as she ran to the basement door, flinging it open. She ran down the stairs as quietly as she could.

"There isn't anywhere I can hide," the girl frowned, "Especially when I'm with you."

Issy went through many rooms and hallways to find the small door that used to be used as hiding place for runaway slaves. She put the little girl inside, climbed in herself, shut the door, and turned on the small bulb in the low ceiling so she could see.

"What do you mean by that? Why do I give you away when you try to hide?" Isabelle started to feel like her reactions weren't right in the least bit. What she should have done was take the girl outside and ask her which direction her house was in. She should have grabbed her phone and dialed 911 to tell them there was a strange girl in her home for who knows what reason. There were many logical things she should have done, but she chose the one that nobody else would. Why was that?

_For starters, there is a deity in your house who appears to love tormenting you in your own home._

Her own thoughts on the subject vanished when the girl finally spoke, "He almost always knows where you are at. Or at least when you're near."

"How?"

The girl examined Isabelle's face. There seemed to be a growing hope in her eyes...a sort of happiness seemed to be building inside her. "You could free him... You could free _us-Shh! _He's coming," she whispered, the happiness and hope vanishing from her irises.

"I must go," the girl said in almost an irrational manner, "To keep you safe, I have to go back."

"Go back where? Girl, you need to go back to your p-"

She smiled before Isabelle could complete her sentence,"My name is Ashley."

Isabelle's memory wasn't the greatest, but she remembered Ellison Oswalt's family. His only daughter went by the name of Ashley.

"Is your last name Oswalt?"

She nodded, seemingly happy that Isabelle was catching on.

"But you're supposed to be, what? In your twenties by now? Listen, I'm not in the least bit a fan of jokes, pranks, or lies, so you better tell me where you live or I won't hesitate to call the police."

There was a creak above their heads just as Ashley was ready to defend who she truly was.

The girl looked back at Isabelle with a hint of fright, "I-I can't tell if he's angry or not since I wandered off... He knows where we are!"

Isabelle got out of the hiding spot and took Ashley with her. Thank God Issy was smart enough to place a weapon in almost every corner of the house including the basement. She picked up a small kitchen knife and headed quietly upstairs with Ashley on her hip. All she had to do was make it to the back door, which was approximately twenty feet from the basement door. She could make, she kept telling herself.

But as soon as she opened the door, a dark figure stood right in front of them. Ashley grabbed hold of the figure's black trench coat and pulled herself to him while Isabelle let out a scream before tumbling down the stairs.

For Isabelle, everything went dark.

Ashley wanted to cry, she didn't mean to wander off and have Isabelle catch her. But at the same time, she was angry. It was his fault she was now injured. Finding some courage, Ashley looked up at Bughuul, her gaurdian (in Ashely's mind guardian is in use for lack of a better word) for over thirteen years now, "You shouldn't have scared her. You should have left her alone."

She watched him turn sorrowfully away from her, walking down the stairs towards Isabelle's still body.

* * *

**The Bughuulies:**

**Okay, okay, I know I suck at updating. :( I'm aweful to you guys!**

**But I do appreciate all the feedback and reviews and PM's you guys give me! It fills my heart with happiness :)**

**A/N: this chapter was difficult to finish because of lack of knowing what to do next, so if any of you have any ideas of events/situations/etc. please PM me or something!**

**THANK YOU Thehalfbloodprince for giving me some ideas that I inserted to the best of my abilities into this chapter. I was stuck, but you helped me out!**

**_Important_: I decided not to make the children all weird looking with the dirt/purple, blue stuff/or whatever made them look lifeless in the film because that clearly represented that the life was being sucked (eaten) out of them. And with my story, I don't want to make that the case, so they don't look lifeless or zombie-creepy like in the films. Instead, they are simply really pale from lack of sun. :)**

**Hopefully the next chapter will be longer since this one was short.**


	9. Little Friends

**A/N: I'm so sorry, but for my own entertainment, I am going to be butchering the character of Bughuul :/ I was thinking about it, and there wasn't any way to keep his perfect scary, heartless image yet have my legend and the way this story is suppose to go fit. So, Bughuul won't be completely hiself from the films. If you don't like it, you can always make your own story. I would read it! Just bear with me on this story and let's see how it plays out, please :D**

**Chapter Nine:**

**Little Friends**

There was a rhythmic beeping sound that seemed to sooth her thoughts as she slowly came back to consciousness. She felt her head first, noticing a few stitches closing up her sliced skin. Grogginess still lingered, but she was able to open her eyelids and take in her surroundings.

Isabelle felt a heavy weight on her left hand. She tried lifting her fingers, but it was difficult. Glancing down, she saw Ashley fast asleep with her cheek planted firmly on her hand. Slightly odd. Isabelle tried moving her other arm, but it felt achy and sore all over. In fact, her whole body felt like it had been kicked and punched repeatedly by a gang of body-builders.

She closed her eyes, scolding herself for trying to move more after figuring out how in pain she was.

"Are you doing alright?" a voice asked from the doorway. And just like that, little Ashley had disappeared, relieving her of the pressure on her hand.

Looking up, she saw Trevor walk into her hospital room with a chicken wrap and milk. "I figured you would be hungry after days of being fed with only liquid." He handed her the small meal. Surprisingly, she managed to say thank you.

"What happened?" Isabelle asked trying to recall the last time she was awake.

"You fell down some stairs. I'm thankful I was able to hear your scream and bothered checking up on you," he kind of chuckled, trying to make light of whatever situation Isabelle was in.

She remembered, though. She remembered trying to save a little girl from that figure. Where was that girl now?

"Di-" she breathed in, trying to find the energy to speak in long sentences, "Did you see a little girl when you went into my house? Or just now when you walked in?"

He gave her a questioning look, then a doctor a few nurses walked in, flocking around Isabelle. She was thankful that their questions were fairly quick. The only important thing they told her was that she could go home the next day after being examined for one night. Simple enough, but she wasn't so sure she wanted to be left alone at night. Especially when that meant she had all the time in the world to think about the events prior to the fall.

After the doctors left, Trevor sat back down in the chair next to her bed that Ashley had sat in earlier. Where did she disappear to?

"What was your sister like?" Isabelle asked.

"Why are you asking such strange and random questions? Maybe you fell too hard..."

"Just tell me about your sister, please," Isabelle said rashly. Her patience-especially since she was in pain-was wearing thin.

"Alright, alright... Well, she was cute. Some of the time, anyway. When she wasn't painting unicorns on the walls of our bedroom. When we did share a bedroom that is," he smiled. As he got more and more into Ashley and who she was, he seemed to float off into a far away place.

The way he described her was fitting with the little time she spent with the Ashley she had met. But her Ashley was more sad and frightened during that time.

Hours later, Trevor was still talking when the doctor came in to tell him visiting hours were over. It was now past ten and though she had been out for days, Isabelle was growing tired. At least, tired of having outsiders in the room. I.e. having people who knew nothing of what she was dealing with in the evenings at her home when nobody else was around.

After everybody scrambled out of her room, Ashley had appeared once more by the side of her bed. She looked a bit happier than she had ever seen her thus far and that warmed Isabelle a bit.

"How did you get in here?" Isabelle asked.

"I think you know the answer to that," she said, hopping up onto the bed right beside her thighs. She gave a closed, wide smile, "I'm no longer normal. I'm under the protection of the supernatural now."

"Protection? You were frightened! If you were protected, why be afraid?"

"Well, I haven't been with him that long. All I know for sure is that he protects us. I still haven't figured out his anger pattern...what makes him perform evil acts..." Ashley turned away in thought.

"Him. The figure at the top of the stairs?"

She nodded, "His name is Bughuul, but us children call him Mr. Boogie. It's better than calling him daddy." Ashley gave a half-hearted chuckle, probably remembering her own father from long ago.

"You were crying at the window. Why?"

The little girl frowned now. "My brother. I guess I haven't gotten over how I can't ever speak to him again. I just saw him reading in his bedroom, and I remember when my parents would read stories to him and I before bed. I wish I could hug him. I can't believe how handsome he's grown. Even if he still has that long, stringy hair," she laughed.

Isabelle smiled at Ashley's admiration for her older brother.

But what the child asked next surprised her. "Could you be my friend? I mean, there are other kids...even another girl my age, but I want somebody who is close to my brother, somebody on the outside."

"I would love to be your friend, but I'm not that close to your brother."

"I think he likes you."

Isabelle blinked a few times, "What?"

"He doesn't love you, but he definitely wants you as a friend. I can tell. I think it's because he doesn't get out much."

Issy laughed. That's what she meant. Isabelle did dislike how there were different forms of the word "like".

"Will you be his friend for me since I can't be there?" Ashley asked with desparation in her eyes.

"Of course I will," she answered, feeling sorry for the girl. How lonely she must have been living such a life. Where did she go when Isabelle couldn't see her then? Where did _he _go when she didn't see _him?_

Wait, was she now giving into the truth that there was a supernatural deity or whatever wandering the halls of her home and children trapped with him? It had to be the truth. After all, how does a little girl appear and disappear without anybody noticing?

Looking at the pale, small girl, Isabelle couldn't help but believe it all to be true. Everything thus far seemed to fit. Especially her diagnosis. There were far too many coincidences to simply pass Bughuul off as merely a legend. The legend had to be true.

"Thank you. I think I should go check on Mr. Boogie and the rest. I don't want to get into trouble. I will see you tomorrow, Issy," she smiled, walking out the door and vanishing.

* * *

The next day, Isabelle checked out of the hospital and hitched a ride from Trevor. She thanked him when they stopped in front of her house. Just as she was about to shut the car door, she turned back to him, "Would you like to have dinner at my house again tonight?"

Surprisingly, he didn't bother to find an excuse out of the invite, "Sure. What time?"

"Seven sounds good."

"I'll be at your house at seven then," he smiled, and then she shut the door, watching him drive back to his house.

Friends. She could do that for Ashley. Maybe if he was over she could see him... Maybe they would be able to converse. No, that was probably too far. She wasn't sure how the whole ordeal worked with Bughuul's world and theirs.

When she walked into the house, she noticed her phone was ringing on the kitchen counter. The ID read Mom.

"Hello?" Isabelle answered, walking up the stairs to her bedroom. She had the rest of the week off, so she planned on spending it in her comfortable clothes. There wasn't any time to waste.

"Oh goodness, sweetheart, we are so sorry! We were out of town when the doctors called us. I can't believe this happened and we missed the call! I'm so sorry we-"

"Mom, it's okay. It was a slight fall, but I'm alright now. It isn't that big of a deal."

"You went unconscious for a few days! Of course it's a big deal-oh your father wants to speak to you." There was a small crackling as the phone was handed over to her dad.

"Hey. How's my little girl after the fall? Still strong?"

Isabelle rolled her eyes, "Of course, Dad. Last time I checked, however, twenty-two wasn't little."

"You still have a few weeks to go before your twenty-two, so until then you are my little girl."

"Oh, so when I do, you will stop calling me that?"

"Hmm...nope."

She laughed, "Well, thanks for calling in, but I should probably get to work."

"Hey, now, don't exert yourself after that fall."

"Whatever you say, Dad. Goodbye now."

"I love you. No more falling down the stairs," he added before hanging up.

A chuckle escaped her lips before she finally switched out her uncomfortable clothes into her comfy ones. Sweats. There was no better man-made material than sweatpants.

After changing, she began heating up some fries from the freezer. While she waited, she reread Professor Jonas's article. He claimed to know so much about Bughuul, but there wasn't anything further on the legend she believed was true. He only went in-depth with the legend he believed was true, which clearly doesn't seem correct because if it was, Ashley looked pretty alive for a girl whose soul was being eaten by a deity. That was another thing: deity. Bughuul was not in any way shape or form a deity. If he was, he could have easily taken her anyway he wanted at any time without trouble, right? But he hasn't, so there must be limits. Deities don't have limits.

Sighing, she tossed the article aside. It was useless now. There wasn't anything to further her knowledge on how to be rid of Bughuul.

What if there was? Did that mean Ashley would have to leave too? What would happen to her? It wouldn't be fair to take her away from Trevor. God only knows what it's like to have been taken away from family with no hope or light. Just fear and darkness. Isabelle then wondered if there was anyway to free the children.

She chuckled to herself. She was becoming too obsessed with the whole ordeal.

The oven beeped, signaling that the fries were cooked and ready to eat. Isabelle pulled them out, blowing on one of the fries and stuffing it into her mouth, savoring the taste.

"Issy?"

Isabelle jumped at the sound of her name being spoken by Ashley. When she turned around she saw quite a few kids behind the little girl.

Ashley gave her a big smile, "We wanted to welcome you back home and tell you how happy we are that you are okay." Isabelle only stared at them wide-eyed while Ashley continued, "I should introduce you to the rest of us." Ashley pointed to each child and said their name. A few she recognized from the Super 8 films. The boy from 'Sleepy-Time' went by the name of Henry, the one from 'Pool Party' was named Jack, the boy with curly locks and darker skin than the rest of the children was named Michael, the blond little girl was Sarah, and last but not least was Stephanie, the little girl with a bright red ribbon in her hair and who was in 'Family Hanging Out'.

She shivered as she remembered the films she had watched. And she had connected the dots. It had been the children who killed their families. These innocent children who stood now in her kitchen had killed their families. But it hadn't been their fault. They were drawn into the darkness, manipulated, acting like puppets to do the dirty work for him...that creature.

"Will you play hide and go seek with us, Issy?" Henry asked.

Isabelle looked around, "Won't you guys get into trouble?"

"He isn't here right now. Hasn't been since he placed you in your bed after your fall," Ashley explained, her smile soft.

"I'm sorry, who did what now?"

The children giggled at her surprised expression.

"So will you play with us?" Jack asked impatiently and excitedly.

Her brain was no longer processing anything, so she simply nodded, watching the children jump up and down.

"We haven't had anybody else to play with us in ages!" Henry said. "How about you count first and come find us?"

"Okay then..." Isabelle turned around and began counting. She could hear the children scurrying out of the kitchen. There wasn't any point in being shocked. This was all some kind of supernatural dilemma. Right now, she should enjoy having company in her house. Now, it wasn't so lonely anymore.

After she counted to one-hundred, she scoured the house for the children. It was hard _not _to smile whenever she found one of them and they would laugh and say, "Darn it! She found me!"

Sadly enough, the fun ended when there was a sickening sound of shattering glass, a scream, and loud sobs.

Isabelle rushed to the ruckus, finding herself looking at tiny Stephanie sobbing on the ground with a bloody ankle. Stephanie tried to get up, continuously sobbing, but she just fell right back down in pain. Issy rushed to her side, taking the girl's ankle as gently as she could. Even so, Stephanie flinched and sobbed louder.

The rest of the children got out from their hiding spots and ran over to the scene. Not to far from Stephanie, the children saw a large rock with a wrinkled paper tied to it.

Michael picked it up and unraveled the paper. "It says: Suffer in hell, you kidnapper. Well, that isn't very nice."

Isabelle tilted her head and almost laughed. 'Killing your own family isn't nice either' was what she thought, but that sounded terrible. The last thing she wanted was to hurt the children's feelings and traumatize them all over again.

"Don't worry about that now, we have to take care of Stephanie," Ashley said. Her eyes were furrowed, appearing to hold back a flow of tears.

Isabelle got up, picking up Stephanie as if the little girl were her bride. She set the child on the edge of the sink and rinsed away the blood then wrapped it in a bandage. By now, Stephanie had ceased her sobs. She said a small thank you to Isabelle as she set the girl down at the dining table. The rest of the kids sat in their own chairs around the injured one. Issy herself sat at the head of the table.

"I'm sorry I can't bring you to a hospital. I'm sure you understand the chaos and questions that would errupt," Isabelle apologized.

Stephanie only nodded.

Michael spoke up, "I don't want you to get into trouble for the mishap with Stephanie..."

She was about to answer when Jack interrupted, "No, we will be the ones in trouble, Michael. Not Isabelle."

Henry shook his head, "Isabelle is the adult, though. He would blame her. He might get angry enough to kill her!"

"He won't harm her. Do you guys pay attention to how different he is when around her?" Ashley said quite perplexed at how blind the rest of her children friends were. Then again, they didn't take much interest in Isabelle like she did. And if it wasn't for Trevor taking an interest in Isabelle, Ashley wouldn't have bothered either. But seeing Mr. Boogie around her-especially in that incident a few nights prior to the fall-it was clear she was something other than a victim to him. "She is the one who can save us from the other world, from Mr. Boogie."

Jack laughed out loud, harder than she has ever seen a kid laugh. He started beating his fist on the table, saying, "No one can save us. We are already trapped forever, Ashley. Stop it with the fairytales."

"It's not a fairytale," Ashley frowned. "I heard a heartbeat in him." This clearly caught all their attentions. "I heard it. He has a heart, and it started beating."

* * *

**The Bughuulies:**

**Thank you to all those who continue to read and review this piece of crap :D**

**dark**** angeltiger: I'm so glad you like this legend better :3 It makes me feel like I'm doing something slightly right! Your review was much appreciated!**

**Micky-Moo:**** I love bad guys too :P thanks for reviewing!**

**xLunaAngelWarriorx: I can't wait for the good stuff to start either! :D Thank you for reviewing!**

**MHZutaraFanGirl: Thank you so much for your long review! It was so interesting and lovely to read what questions you have!**

**Angel-Demon hybrid: thank you so much for your reviews and ideas you have PMd me! It means so much 3**


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